Dr. Andrew Bonar told me how, in the Highlands of Scotland, a sheep would often wander
off into the rocks and get into places that they couldn't get out of. The grass on these
mountains is very sweet and the sheep like it, and they will jump down ten or twelve feet,
and then they can't jump back again, and the shepherd hears them bleating in distress.
They may be there for days, until they have eaten all the grass. The shepherd will wait
until they are so faint they cannot stand, and then they will put a rope around him, and
he will go over and pull that sheep up out of the jaws of death. "Why don't they go
down there when the sheep first gets there?" I asked. "Ah!" He said,
"they are so very foolish they would dash right over the precipice and be killed if
they did!" And that is the way with men; they won't go back to God till they have no
friends and have lost everything. If you are a wanderer I tell you that the Good Shepherd
will bring you back the moment you have given up trying to save yourself and are willing
to let Him save you His own way.
Moody's Anecdotes, pp. 70-71.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henle, "Invictus"